


Falling Apart (And Coming Back Together)

by beersforqueers



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Break Up AUs, Breaking up and making up, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Occasional Drunken Angst, Or just breaking up, Post-Break Up, Really it's a choose your own adventure over here, Sometimes they get back together, all the feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beersforqueers/pseuds/beersforqueers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of AUs based on these <a href="http://omgbeersforqueers.tumblr.com/post/140808445032/post-breakup-aus">prompts</a>, where Sokka and Zuko break up and (usually) make up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It was so good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I write more drunk Sokka, but writing drunk Zuko just felt like the way to go for this one.

“’Nother,” Zuko held his glass up toward the bartender, who quirked an eyebrow at him dubiously before walking over. He was young and pretty cute, pale and baby-faced with very blue eyes.

“I hate blue eyes,” Zuko mumbled. The bartender very considerately ignored that and poured him a finger of bourbon.

“When was the break up?” he asked, recapping the bottle.

“Too long ago for this to not be pitiful,” Zuko said sadly.

“The bar closes in like twenty minutes,” the bartender said gently, gesturing at the beat up old clock on the wall. It was the kind of bar that stank like stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer, and the floor was covered in peanut shells and bottle caps. It was a fucking dive.

“Is it 3 already?” Zuko slurred, sliding sideways on his stool to follow the bartender’s eyes. “Oh damn,” he fished around in his pocket for a second and came up with a set of car keys. “These are for you,” he said solemnly.

“Thanks, man,” he said, and took them. “Can I call anyone for you?

Zuko screwed up his forehead, thinking hard. Ozai and Azula were completely out of the question. Mai? No, things hadn’t ended well. Ty Lee? No, she was touring with her dance troupe. Aang? No, he and Katara were still on their honeymoon.

“Yeah,” he said, rattling off the first set of numbers that popped to mind. He didn’t have them programmed into his phone anymore after a fit of pique about a month ago, and he didn’t trust his own fingers to be able to dial competently.

“All right,” the bartender turned away and picked up the receiver of the phone attached to the wall. He made Zuko repeat the number while he dialed, then popped his hip out to lean against the counter while it rang through. “Hi,” he said after a few seconds. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve got your friend here and he’s really not safe to drive home. Which friend?” the bartender eyed Zuko again. “He’s Asian, long black hair in a man bun, scar on the side of his face,” he winced when he saw Zuko staring at him, but Zuko just shrugged and reached over the counter for the bottle. He _did_ have a scar on the side of his face.

“Can you come get him? I’d call him a cab but I’m not sure he even remembers where he lives right now,” the bartender listened for a second, then rattled off the name and address of the bar. “Thanks, bro, appreciate it.” He hung up and snatched the bottle out of Zuko’s hand, “he’s on his way. Was _not_ happy about being woken up, but he sounded like a good guy.”

“He’s the _best_ guy,” Zuko nodded, making grabby hands at the bottle. If he was coming to pick him up, maybe it was best that he be unconscious.

“Nice try,” the bartender set the bottle back up on the back shelf and accepted Zuko’s credit card. He whistled when he saw the shiny black plastic. “The fuck are you doing drinking here?” he asked, disappearing to the other end of the bar.

“I like the homey atmosphere,” Zuko muttered.

About 2 minutes later the door of the bar slammed open. They both jumped, Zuko’s elbow sliding off the bar. He jerked sideways dangerously, but a hand caught him before he fell off of the stool.

“Thanks,” he said automatically, then froze. That wasn’t the bartender’s hand curled around his arm.

“You’re welcome,” Sokka said tightly, hauling him upright. Zuko turned to say thanks to the bartender, but he was staring at Sokka.

“Blue eyes, huh?” he grinned. “Well no wonder you didn’t notice me flirting with you earlier.” He winked theatrically at Zuko, who flushed. “And here I was thinking you were straight,” the bartender shrugged and waved as Sokka hauled Zuko upright and frog marched him toward the door. “Have a nice night!” Zuko turned back and saw him laughing before the door slammed shut.

“Dick,” he said without much heat.

“Really? _He’s_ the dick?” Sokka dropped Zuko’s arm like it had burned him. Zuko stumbled a little and listed sideways, coming to lean against the grimy brick wall of the bar. “You get wasted and call _me_ to come get you at 3 in the morning? It’s a _Tuesday_ , Zuko, and you haven’t talked to me in months!”

“No one else would have come,” Zuko said pitifully, but Sokka looked unimpressed. “And the only number I have memorized is yours,” he admitted.

“Get in the car,” Sokka jangled Zuko’s keys against his palm as he followed him to the curb, a reassuringly solid presence at his back when he weaved a little.

“What ‘bout your car?” Zuko fetched up against the passenger side door and yanked ineffectually at the handle. Sokka reached past him to pull it open.

“I took a cab,” Sokka slammed the door after him and got in on the other side. “You’re an idiot,” he said, adjusting the seat so he could reach the pedals. “ _And_ you’re pathetic,” he said, harshly. “Ever think about what it would be like for _me_ to come drag your drunk ass out of a bar in the middle of the night? Ever think maybe this isn’t fair to _me_?”

“’m sorry,” Zuko whispered, slumped against the car door. He felt distinctly off-kilter, unused to Sokka being the angry or the mean one. “I know you’re mad at me,” he dragged in a shaky breath, “but you have to admit that it’s impressive that I still have your number memorized.”

Sokka laughed derisively, “Yeah, real impressive, Zuko, you get a medal for shittiest ex ever.”

“Why are you being mean?” Zuko said, and immediately regretted it. It came out weak and plaintive and childish.

Sokka slammed on the breaks, guiding the car onto the shoulder. He punched the panic button and turned to glare at Zuko.

“It is 3:30 in the goddamn morning, Zuko, and I am sitting in your fucking Porsche on the side of the road with your shitfaced self, after you _broke up with me and then ignored me for 4 months_. I had to climb out of bed with Suki to come get you and I don’t even know why I did it,” he turned back and stared resolutely down the dark road in front of them, “I’m mad at you, yeah, but I’m also mad at me. Because apparently I’m not over you.” He put the car back in gear and pulled back onto the road, expression stony.

Zuko just stared. He didn’t expect Sokka to keep talking, but when did Sokka ever _stop_ talking? “You should have seen the look she gave me,” Sokka’s fingers flexed on the wheel, knuckles white and ghostly in the dark, “when I told her where I was going. Why do you fuck up everything good in my life?” His voice sounded sad now, softer. “It was so good, Zuko,” he said. “It didn’t have to end. And what I have with Suki right now is good too. If I still have it when I get home.”

“If you don’t that’s not about me,” Zuko said suddenly. His voice sounded savage, even to him. “I may have called, but you didn’t have to come.”

“You’re right,” Sokka said. “I didn’t. But I wanted to see you.”

“I wanted to see you too,” Zuko said. They pulled to a stop in his driveway. He looked over at Sokka. He was staring back at him intently, blue eyes blazing. “Come inside,” he said on a whim. Sokka snorted.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he handed the keys to Zuko and got out of the car. “Drink water, take some Tylenol, and stay out of my life.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving Zuko staring down at the car keys in his lap and wondering when things had gone so wrong.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know about typos, etc!


	2. I’m willing to move to Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the prompt for this one: “I found your box of letters underneath my bed last night and because I’m a nosy motherfucker I decided to read them and it turns out they were all addressed to me and the last one was dated the day you moved out and I’m not quite sure why I thought this would be a good idea but here I am, standing on your doorstep, wondering why the fuck we’re not together anymore” AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god this is a sappy one and why are letters so impossible to write?? They're HARD. 
> 
> I feel like this is Zukka in, like, their late 20s/early 30s right when all their life shit suddenly gets very REAL very fast and not everyone can deal with that the same way and sometimes people just freak out and do things they never meant to do and that's not necessarily anyone's fault it's just a mess and things get complicated and ok, Sokka, YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE BUT YOURSELF.
> 
> In short: Zuko knows what he wants and Sokka is Sokka.

_Sokka,_

_My shrink is probably a quack, and this is dumb, and I don’t even know why I’m doing it, but it was better than journaling. Dr. Jee said that if I just wrote like I was writing_ **to** _someone, that might make it easier. And you’re my best friend and my roommate, so why not you?_

_Ok, well, not you because you’re_ **you** _, and why do you think I’m even in therapy in the first place?_

_Don’t answer that._

_Ok, I’ll answer that. It’s not you. My dad and my mom and Azula, and all of that shit that you already know. But you come up a lot. I talk about you a lot, I think (I know), and Dr. Jee jumped on you right away and the last time I talked to him…_

_Yeah, I sort of told him I loved you the last time we had a session. You would have laughed so hard at the face he made, but he didn’t say any of the things I expected him to. He didn’t do the, “You’re gay??” thing and freak out. I don’t even think he cares I’m gay, which is obviously a big fucking deal for me. It’s good._

_Sokka, I don’t think you even know that I’m gay. Obviously I know you’re bi—your room isn’t exactly soundproof, and I’ve made breakfast for too many of your randos not to notice that some of them have dicks. I don’t know why I don’t tell you. It’s not like you’ll care._

_But I guess if you know then you might guess that I love you and that scares the shit out of me. You’re my friend even though I’m such a fucked up mess, but ~~there’s no way you love me back~~ maybe it’s better if we just stay friends. _

_Dr. Jee would get so mad at me for saying bad stuff about myself. I’m supposed to be working on positive thinking to build my self-esteem or something. All right, Zuko, you’re a good friend, Sokka likes you because you’re great, etc. etc. whatever. What would Uncle say about all of this?_

_What would you say? Hypothetical you who doesn’t give a fuck that I’m in love with you. Probably you’d laugh at me for being an idiot and then manhandle me into cuddling with you to watch Real Housewives. Somehow you always make me feel better._

_That’s probably why I love you. Even though it’s dumb._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_You were really fucking cute today. This letter is already off to a great start, obviously. Ok, but whatever. You were, it’s science. That’s what you would say._

_So today we babysat Appa and he was running all over the apartment and getting hair all over everything and I was trying to clean up after him/catch him and you were just lying on the couch laughing and laughing and laughing and I finally corned him and shut him in your room and I was so prepared to be mad at you. But then I turned around and your face was all red and your eyes were fucking sparkling like from a book, and you just looked so happy._

_I wanted to kiss you so much, but I’m a coward and I look at you and I remember that guy from last weekend and I wonder how you could ever even like me if that’s what you’re into. No offense but he looked like a drug dealer. A hot, sociopathic drug dealer. What kind of name was that, by the way? Like, Rocket or something? It’s probably a street name. He probably gave you diseases._

_Part of me hopes he did (the unreasonable part that is mad at you for not wanting me) but the rest of me just wants you to be safe and happy, even if it’s with somebody else. Just not Rocket or whatever his name was. He was probably crazy._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_You have to stop doing nice shit for me. You keep leaving notes all over the place to remind me about my appointments and meetings and when we have dinner plans with Toph and Suki. Even just notes telling me to have a good day. And it’s so great, don’t get me wrong, but it also makes me feel like I’m being smothered every time you do. Every time you sign them “ <3, Sokka", I want to cry._

_And stop hugging me for so long. You hug me like I’m about to go off to war. Not everything needs to be that dramatic, and I don’t need to smell like you any more than I already do._

_Which brings me to my clothes. Stop stealing them. Every time I see you in my Yale sweatshirt I want to shove you up against the wall and tear it off of you._

_And bookmarks. You make me fucking bookmarks. You don’t buy them. You_ make _them. Who does that? Every time I go to dog ear a page, you just shove another one into my hand out of nowhere and they always have inspiration tea quotes on them. Are you and Uncle in on this together? That’s concerning._

_Stop wandering out of the bathroom totally naked with shaving cream smeared over half your jaw. I like the stubble, but more importantly, you’re naked, and it gives me heart palpitations. Also, stop cooking in just your boxers. All I want is to plaster myself against your back and run my hands down your chest and stick my hand down your pants and jerk you off right there in the kitchen._

_Obviously I haven’t said any of this to Dr. Jee. But maybe if I work it out here I won’t have to._

_In short, you’re giving me an ulcer._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_You kissed me today._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_Ok, it’s been another day, I can write about it now. You kissed me and I didn’t know what was going on and I was so scared my heart was beating out of my chest, but you kissed me and everything went soft and white and I thought maybe I had died._

_What happened after is making me blush even just thinking about it._

_I think this means we’re a couple but I don’t know and that’s scary, but at least now I know that you want me. For whatever that’s worth, you_ want _me. That’s worth something, right?_

_God, your lips. The way it just sort of came out of nowhere, and how freaked out you looked after, like you thought I was gonna reject you. I would never reject you. I want you to throw me up against a wall and kiss me hard again, just kiss me forever. The blow job was nice, don’t get me wrong, but I could kiss you for hours and not get bored of it. You tasted like coffee and whiskey and snow, and you smelled like smoke from the bar and I didn’t know it was possible to want someone as much I want you. I want you to be inside of me and around me and to just tear me open._

_That sounds crazy and super intense and it is. But every time you look at me I feel naked now._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_I want you to tell me you love me. Dr. Jee says that you probably haven’t known you were in love with me as long as I’ve known I’m in love with you, and to give you time._

_But you look at me and you open your mouth and then you just smile and shake your head and hold your hands out and pull me into your lap and kiss me. Are you worried I won’t say it back? Oh my god, I want to say it so bad but I don’t want to come on too strong._

_At least we’ve talked about it now. You’re my boyfriend, which makes it sound like high school, but I don’t care. We sleep in the same bed and we’re talking about adopting a cat, and we had a conversation about whether or not you want kids the other day. Holy shit._

_Are we gonna be those gays who colonize the suburbs? I don’t see my life without you. Let’s be honest, our apartment is great, but it’s also not big enough to have kids in. Do you want to stay in the city? Do you want to stay in the States or move home if we get married? I’ll go wherever you want to go._

_It’s only been a couple of months, I should probably stop thinking (and writing) about getting married. I don’t even know if you want that._

_All I know is that I’m so happy and for once I’m excited about the future. I can’t wait to start doing all of it with you. Work is good, but they’d transfer me if I asked. I’m due up for a promotion. We have money. You can go back to school if you don’t want to bartend forever. Or you could be a house dad. I don’t care. Whatever makes you happy._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_We had our first fight. Not just a stupid roommate fight because I left my socks all over—I can hear you saying, “Not all of us grew up with maids to clean our shit up, Zuko!”—a real fight. I didn’t mean what I said about you spending too much time with Teo. I know you guys like to invent stuff together and I trust you and I believe in you._

_I’m just no good at this. I’ve never been with someone for this long, or who I cared this much about. I like Teo, I do. I’ve just seen how he looks at you and I know there’s a past there and I’m jealous. I can’t help it. I said it. I’m jealous._

_It’s stupid. Which is what you said, of course, because you’re always right._

_I swear, I trust you. I do. I really do. I want you to believe me, but I guess that if you can’t believe me maybe that’s also part of the problem. I don’t know._

_Zuko_

_Sokka,_

_Make up sex is also good as it turns out. I just read back through my last letter to you and remembered that stupid fight and felt like an idiot all over again. Oh well. Maybe you were just working out the last of your anger, but I couldn’t walk right the next day and kept blushing whenever anyone looked at me at work and I had to go jerk off in my office’s private bathroom during lunch because I couldn’t stop thinking about you._

_Wow, that’s embarrassing. Pretend I never told you that. Pretend my assistant didn’t discretely avert her eyes when I walked back out to make sure she pushed back my afternoon meeting._

_We’re coming up on a year and I’m thinking about what to do for the anniversary. It’s sort of a big deal._

_I want to marry you._

_Oh wow, that was out of left field._

_But here’s the thing. We’ve talked about kids and we got a cat and we already live together and you finally said you love me, and I have a ring. I’m willing to move to Canada with you. I’m clearly in it for the long haul._

_Zuko_

All of the air is gone from the room and probably also the entire universe. That’s why Sokka grabs the shoebox full of letters and yanks the hook out of the wall trying to get his keys and literally runs all the way through the streets like a madman and is now sitting on Zuko’s front stoop wondering what the fuck he’s doing here. This is probably a bad idea.

He gets up and walks back down the stairs, shoebox in hand, and then stops. Turns around, walks back up, all the way to the door, about to ring the bell, and stops. Swivels on the spot, puts the shoebox full of letters back down, considers it, and gets a little farther away before going back for it.

The last letter was dated the day that Zuko moved out. He must have written it in the morning and folded it up and stashed it away and gone out into the living room with the ring. And Sokka, because he’s an idiot, had freaked out.

Reading the letters had been a violation. They were Zuko’s private property. Probably Zuko had shacked up in this nice-ass house halfway across the city with some rich guy from his office and they’d hired a cook and a maid and were planning on adopting lots of babies for a nanny to raise.

 _That’s mean_ , he told himself. Zuko had really wanted kids, and he’d really wanted to be the kind of dad Ozai hadn’t been for him. Sokka walks back to the box and cranes his neck, looking up at the house. It’s beautiful, exactly what Sokka would want for himself, truth be told. So it isn’t home—if he’d only known Zuko was willing to move home with him, they’d be in fucking Churchill by now or something and Zuko would be cold and miserable and yeah, maybe it’s better this way. But it’s definitely _a_ home. It has a little back yard and everything.

Sokka picks up the box. Zuko probably doesn’t miss them. It can’t hurt to keep them to read when he needs to… to what? Cry his eyes out over his ex? Wallow in the worst mistake of his life?

It had made sense at the time. He was pretty sure it had. That must have been why he’d done it, right? Breaking up with Zuko hadn’t been easy and extricating their lives from one another had been long and painful and there were so many steps along the way when he could have stopped it. But he was so irrationally frustrated over that last fight, and he’d thought he was angry at Zuko. Now he felt like he’d just been angry at himself. For being a coward, for fucking up the one good thing in his life, for saying _no_ , when everything in him had been screaming yes.

He walks back up to the front door and raises his hand to knock. He probably isn’t even home. He sits down on the top step and buries his face in his hands.

“Sokka?” Zuko’s startled voice cuts through the relative quiet of the sleepy street.

“Zuko!” Sokka jumps to his feet and drops the box. The letters spill out all over the front stoop, and Sokka dives, trying to collect them all before Zuko recognizes them.

An extra pair of hands reaches out, and Sokka realizes that they aren’t Zuko’s. He jerks upright and nearly smacks heads with the guy.

 _I was right_ , he thinks in horror. The guy is holding one of the letters in his hands, looking down at it, perplexed. He’s really hot, with a jaw that could cut glass and pouty full lips and deep-set green eyes. Sokka wants to punch him in the fucking face.

“James,” Zuko snatches the letter out of his hands, blushing deep red, and gives the guy a little push. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says pointedly, and the guy shakes himself.

“Yeah, of course,” he smiles warmly, gives Sokka a politely confused little wave, and hurries off down the street.

Sokka shoves the letters back into the box and makes to grab the one Zuko is holding too. “I’m sorry, I’ll just—“ he starts, but Zuko sidesteps him.

“Come inside, Sokka,” Zuko sighs, and his face is indecipherable.

“Ok,” Sokka whispers, and he follows Zuko in.

The house is minimally furnished, like Zuko hasn’t really moved in yet. There’s no evidence of the guy’s—James’—presence. The hardwood floors are spotless and shining, and the narrow front hall leads into a sleek kitchen. There are sliding glass doors at the other end of the room that lead out onto a patio overlooking the yard. The house is narrow, like most townhouses, and Sokka figures the living room is probably upstairs.

“What are you doing on my doorstep carrying _these_?” Zuko brandishes the letter at Sokka, and now he looks pissed. “Where did you find them? Did you,” he swallows hard, “read them?”

“Who was the guy?” Sokka asks. “New boyfriend?”

“What do you care?” Zuko spits. “Did you read them?”

“Yeah, I read them,” Sokka says, temper rising. “And I came over here because of them.”

“What, you want to laugh at me?” Zuko asks, his face going very pale. “Get out if that’s what you came here for, Sokka. I can’t handle it right now.”

“That’s not why I came!” Sokka yells. “I came because I can’t even remember why we aren’t together anymore!”

“We aren’t together because _you_ didn’t want to be,” Zuko jabs him in the chest, hard.

“Well I’m an idiot!” Sokka pushes back. “Why did you listen to me?”

“Because you broke my heart!” Zuko shouts, throwing the letter at him. It flutters to the ground and Sokka looks at it numbly. “ _I want you to tell me you love me._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Sokka picks it up and puts it into the box with the others. His hands are shaking. “I still love you. I want to marry you.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” Zuko hisses, smacking his hands away from the box. “Who do you think you are? Coming over here and just _laying_ that on me on a fucking Thursday afternoon? What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Does that mean you don’t want me anymore?” Sokka blinks back tears, picturing stupid hot James. “Does that mean you’re gonna end up with _him_?”

“Him?” Zuko shoves Sokka. Sokka’s too much bigger to really budge, but it feels like an earthquake. “He’s my fucking assistant, Sokka! And what makes you think,” he pushes him again, and Sokka takes a step back, right into the wall, “that you can just do this? You made me get out of your life. You didn’t want _me_.”

“Of course I did,” Sokka says quietly. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” Zuko steps in close, anger simmering close to the surface. He looks like he could breathe fire right now.

“Of you. I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who’d make me want the stuff you made me want, Zuko,” Sokka says. “But if you aren’t interested, I get it.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth,” Zuko says, and he kisses him.

Suddenly everything is right again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You deserved a happy ending one after that last emotional hellscape.


	3. What’s changed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Well this is really awkward considering the last time we saw each other, I was screaming at you to never talk to me again, but like, my dog recognized you all the way across the park and literally dragged me over here because he misses you so hi” AU
> 
> ...because I just can't leave Jet out of anything. He's so useful for conflict-creation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I held off on posting this chapter entirely because the old word count was exactly 4,444 words and that was awesome.

Taking Appa for a walk wasn’t meant to be a difficult proposition. Hook him to a lead, take a few laps around the park, call it a day. If Aang could do it, surely Sokka could as well.

It would be way easier if Appa wasn’t currently determined to rip his arm off. “APPA!” Sokka yelled, trying to get the enormous sheepdog under control. He was bound and determined, though, racing along the path, leaping clear over a bush, startling clusters of tourists and hoards of pigeons into flight as he neared.

“Sorry, sorry!” Sokka called over his shoulder as he sprinted past, trying desperately to maintain his grip on Appa’s leash. Clearly the dog was possessed and he couldn’t be held accountable for that. If he came back damaged in any way, it was _not_ Sokka’s fault.

Appa pulled to a stop so fast that Sokka ran head long into, and over, him. Sprawled out on the grass he tried to catch his breath while Appa’s booming bark rang out excitedly. Finally he hauled himself into a sitting position and hung his head between his knees.

“What the _fuck_ , Appa?” he panted.

“Sorry about that,” came an all-too-familiar voice.

Sokka jerked to his feet, smoothing his hair back automatically. Zuko was standing on the path next to him, cheeks a little pink in the crisp fall air, looking disarmingly attractive in a pair of his ratty old jeans and a care-worn red sweater. He was even wearing the scarf Sokka had given him for their second anniversary.

Sokka stared. Zuko stared back. This was rapidly becoming awkward.

The last time Sokka had seen Zuko was, maybe, oh, 6 months ago? At which point Sokka had thrown things and cried and screamed that he never wanted Zuko to talk to him again. Apparently Appa had something else in mind, though, because he had cheerfully plopped his enormous furry ass right at Zuko’s feet and was panting up at him expectantly.

Zuko reached down, not breaking eye contact with Sokka, and scratched gently behind Appa’s ears. He looked nearly catatonic with joy, his big brown eyes falling shut. If he wasn’t a dog, Sokka was pretty sure the sound he made would be close to a purr.

“Hi,” Sokka finally said, brain short-circuiting.

“Hi,” Zuko echoed.

They stared at one another for a few more minutes. Zuko continued to scritch distractedly at exactly the spot on Appa’s head that rendered him useless during a getaway, and Sokka continued to drown in the molten gold of Zuko’s eyes.

“Well I should go—“

“We should get coff—“

“Um,” Zuko broke off, pink face now several shades deeper, “what were you just trying to say?”

“I think,” Sokka flailed a little internally, “that I was about to ask you out for coffee?” The end of the sentence came out on an undignified squeak.

“Oh,” Zuko blinked, fingers stilling on Appa’s head. He whined, and Zuko jumped, looking down at him. His expression softened a little from bewilderment to unmistakable fondness, and he starting scratching again. “Sokka is being weird, isn’t he, Appa?” he cooed.

Sokka wasn’t completely sure that Zuko knew he’d said that out loud, but he wasn’t going to point it out. Yeah, he’d done the actual breaking up, but it wasn’t his actions that had caused the rift in the first place.

“I mean,” Zuko continued, crouching down to look Appa solemnly in the eye, “if Sokka wanted to talk to me, don’t you think he’s had months to do it? Especially when I made it pretty obvious that I was sorry?”

Sokka rolled his eyes, “Real fucking mature, Zuko.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, was I?” Zuko said sharply, gaze not leaving Appa.

“Don’t pretend I’m in the wrong here,” Sokka snapped.

“I didn’t ever pretend it wasn’t my fault,” Zuko sprang back up to his full height, towering over Sokka. “But I _begged_ , Sokka. I _begged_ you to take me back, and you shut me out. No conversation, no calls, no texts, no fucking _emails, you don't even like my instagram pictures_. I would have done _anything_.”

“I didn’t trust you anymore,” Sokka said hollowly.

“So what’s changed?” Zuko asked.

“Nothing,” Sokka said defiantly. “Nothing’s changed.”

“So what the hell are we doing standing here?”

“We aren’t doing anything!” Sokka said hotly. “Appa dragged me halfway across the park because he smelled you.”

“Well at least someone misses me,” Zuko pet Appa appreciatively on the head.

“I didn’t say I didn’t miss you,” Sokka spat. “Just that I couldn’t look at your fucking face for one more minute after you ch—“

“ _I did not cheat on you_ ,” Zuko hissed, loudly enough that passersby jumped before hurrying on their way.

“That wasn’t what it looked like to me,” Sokka said, then immediately regretted bringing it up in the first place. Zuko’s jaw had set in a telltale sign of danger, and now was not the time or place to start fighting again.

“Listen to me,” Zuko stepped in close, lowering his voice, “I fucked up. I will admit that. I knew exactly what he wanted from me and maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly or I wanted to make you jealous or I just thought I could handle it. But I never slept with him, no matter what you think you saw. I never lied to you and I never stopped lov—“

Zuko’s eyes went wide and he made an odd choked noise, like he’d accidentally tried to swallow his own tongue.

“Loving me?” Sokka finished numbly. “Anyone who loved me couldn’t do what you did.” And, hating himself a little bit, he turned on his heel and walked away, Appa trotting sadly beside him.


	4. Except when I’m drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: “It's my [insert family relation here]'s wedding and seeing all these happy couples is killing me and all I can think about is how this was almost us” AU (bonus: “I know that it’s two in the morning and I’m dressed really formally and a little (a lot) bit drunk but I couldn’t stop thinking about you after my grandma asked how you were doing also can I come in it’s freezing out here”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post something today because I just finished my second exam of the last 3 days and I have a paper and a project and a presentation due and I just needed to reward myself with fanfic. 
> 
> So here's more angst for my angsty week.

“Sokka?” Zuko rubs his eyes and yawns, pretty sure that he’s dreaming. He has his finger pressed hard to the intercom next to his front door, and when he twists to check the time on the flashing red light of the microwave, it’s two in the morning.

“Zuko?” Sokka’s voice crackles through the little speaker. Zuko jumps as though he were expecting anything other than Sokka’s voice. His stomach drops a little. Is he not dreaming? “Zuko, it’s me.”

Zuko closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the door jam. He’s so tired and hearing Sokka’s voice makes him want to vomit and also cry and also shrivel up and die. “What do you want, Sokka, it’s two in the goddamn morning,” he says harshly, not letting go of the button.

He can hear Sokka drag in a shaky breath, and it strikes him that maybe Sokka isn’t entirely sober. Before he can ask, though, Sokka says, “Zuko I’m a little bit drunk right now and can I come in, it’s freezing out here.”

Zuko snorts before he can hold it in and says, “I thought your warm Canadian blood meant you never got cold.”

“Yeah, except when I’m drunk,” Sokka retorts, and Zuko smiles in spite of himself. He shouldn’t let him in; that’s a really bad idea. It’s been months since he moved out and every time he thought he was going to be fine he’d find one of Sokka’s socks wedged in the door of the washing machine and panic on the floor of the laundry room.

“I’ll buzz you in,” he says instead of “fuck off I don’t want to see you” because he knows that would be giant lie and Sokka would probably see right through it.

He unlocks the door rather than standing by it waiting like a teenage boy nervous for his first date to arrive. Instead he goes to sit on one of the stools at their—his counter, and thinks dimly that maybe he should turn a light on. He doesn’t, half because he’s trying to maintain his sleepy stupor to get through this, and partially because he knows Sokka is photosensitive when drunk.

He’s nice like that.

The rap on the door is loud and a little off-rhythm, not the usual “rap-tap-a-tap-tap” that Sokka joyfully beats out on any unsuspecting surface.

“It’s open,” he calls, and the door scrapes open.

Sokka trips inside, shoving it shut behind him, and immediately toes off his shoes. Zuko is horribly reminded of every other night when Sokka would get home from work, thoughtfully removing his shoes before bounding through the door to throw his arms around Zuko’s neck and kiss him hello.

He’s wearing a suit, a really formal one, with a cummerbund and everything, but his hair is messed up from where it was obviously slicked back, and his tie is loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone. His lips are red and full, his eyes a little glassy, his cheeks flushed.

“You’re a _lot_ drunk,” Zuko observes.

“Yeah, I know,” Sokka says, lurching toward the counter. He sees the expression on Zuko’s face and pulls up short on the other side of it, tipping backward precariously before ultimately deciding to lean against the pantry door opposite.

“Why are you here?” Zuko spits out. “Why are you so dressed up?”

“I’m—“ Sokka looks down at himself, then stops and strips off his jacket and cummerbund, yanks the tie over his head, rakes a hand through his hair. Zuko swallows thickly. Sokka may be more comfortable now, but he also looks painfully attractive, and Zuko feels like screaming. “I was at Toph and Suki’s wedding,” he explains.

“Oh,” Zuko says, eyes sliding toward the fridge where not too long ago the invitation had hung. They’d RSVP-ed as a couple, and when he’d had to call Toph and explain that he wasn’t coming, she’d reamed him out for a full half hour. But Sokka was Suki’s best man, and Zuko couldn’t handle seeing him like that, at a wedding, surrounded by their friends like…

Well, here he was anyway.

“I’m sorry, I just,” Sokka looks at him beseechingly. “Mrs. Beifong asked how you were doing and I just…” he trails off again, twisting his tie in his hands. “I was surrounded by all these happy couples and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how that was almost us and I, I _miss_ you, Zuko, I miss you so much.”

Zuko turns his head to the side, unable to look at him. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the wetness in his eyes to just suck back into his head or something, because he is _not_ going to cry right now, he just _isn’t_.

“Say something,” Sokka asks, and his voice cracks. Zuko can’t look at him, but he opens his eyes again, staring at the door to his bedroom. Their apartment is mostly just one big room, the kitchen against the front wall and divided from the living room by the counter. There are big windows because Sokka had wanted them, and their rooms faced each other across the living room. They’d kept Sokka’s as a guest room even after they’d gotten together, but now Zuko never even looks at it. There’s too much evidence in there of a life together, a life they were supposed to share forever.

“You should go,” he says quietly.

“No, Zuko,” Sokka’s socked feet whisper across the floor boards as he pitches toward him, banging loudly against the cupboards, knocking over one of the other stools. “Zuko,” big warm hands land on this thighs and swivel the stool, and now he’s looking at the oven and the range, that big stupid Viking monstrosity Sokka had wanted even though he’d never learned to cook. “Zuko _look_ at me.”

Zuko doesn’t want to, but he peels his eyes away from the gleaming stainless steel and looks down at Sokka, kneeling between his knees on the wood floor. His face is turned up and _oh no_ , there are tears very obviously trembling in the corners. He swipes them away automatically, using his thumbs to track the wetness across Sokka’s high cheekbones.

Sokka catches his hand on his cheek and nuzzles into it, eyes falling shut. His dark brown lashes brush the tip of Zuko’s fingers, feather light. He presses his lips to Zuko’s wrist and Zuko shudders, wanting to pull away but physically incapable.

“I’m so sorry,” Sokka whispers, hot breath fanning out across Zuko’s forearm. “I’ll be better this time.”

“I just wanted it—“ Zuko has to pause to clear his throat. “I just want to be back to normal,” he whispers into the dark room, like a confession. “Nothing is right when you aren’t here. No one makes me _laugh_ , Sokka. No one makes a mess in the kitchen or spills wine all over the couch or, god, Sokka, I haven’t been _fucked_ since you left,” he says hysterically. Sokka gasps, a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Zuko’s eyes fasten onto it. He wants to nod, say yes, give in. It would feel so good. Sokka can sense it, and his tongue flicks out of his mouth again, licking a narrow track up the side of Zuko’s hand until he reaches his thumb. His lips part around it and he sucks it into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tip, eyes fastened on Zuko’s face.

It feels like he’s drowning. His brain is buzzing from the late hour and the intensity of Sokka’s gaze, the wet heat of his mouth, and it really has been months. Sokka has probably been with tons of people in that time—he’d never had any problem picking up men or women.

A flash of heat goes through him, anger and frustration and desire all wrapped up together, and he makes a noise that jolts Sokka. His thumb pops free of Sokka’s mouth and he grabs him by the ears, half falling off the stool, half dragging Sokka to him. Their mouths connect hard, teeth clacking, Sokka’s lips slack from surprise and alcohol. He tastes like vodka, like the good stuff Toph’s parents probably shelled out for at the open bar.

“Zuko,” Sokka wrenches himself away, and Zuko blinks up at him, unsure when he came to be towering over him. “I don’t want this if you don’t,” Sokka says. “If you don’t want me for good, I’m not gonna sleep with you. If you’re trying to hurt me, or get back at me, or—“

“Sokka, shut up,” Zuko grabs him by fistfuls of his dress shirt and drags him back, sucking at the hollow behind his ear like he knows he likes.

“Zuko, you’re still mad, and I get it, I’m not a good guy, I fucked up, but I need to know,” Sokka’s words slur a little but sound heartfelt, and Zuko’s head is swirling with them. What does he want? He knows he wants Sokka, but he’s always wanted Sokka, and he doesn’t think that will ever change. But right now?

Here’s the thing. He hasn’t been sleeping. He’s barely been eating. Even Azula, who ostensibly gives zero fucks about him, has said that he looks too skinny. He doesn’t see that many of their old friends because they remind him of Sokka and he’s scared he’ll ask about Sokka and hear he’s doing great or, god forbid, dating someone new. Iroh has been around every week to help him pack up Sokka’s stuff, even though Zuko knows that Iroh thinks he made a mistake in kicking Sokka out.

Hell, Zuko thinks Zuko made a mistake in kicking him out.

He still loves Sokka, and he doesn’t think that will ever change.

“You still love me,” he whispers against Sokka’s neck.

“I do,” Sokka whispers back, and he sounds broken. “I really do,” his hands cup the back of Zuko’s head gently, and all the fight goes out of him. He presses his forehead against Sokka’s collar bone and goes limp, feeling inexpressibly tired.

“Ok,” he says. Sokka’s shoulders are tense when he runs a hand over the left one. “Come to bed,” he says, “and you can fuck me tomorrow.”

All of Sokka’s muscles go loose all at once, and Zuko is momentarily baffled as the kitchen swings out of his line of view, but then he realizes that Sokka has lifted him off his stool.

“Fucking put me down, what the _hell_ , Sokka!” Zuko thumps at Sokka’s shoulder, feeling horribly undignified. Sokka has hefted him into a fucking bridal hold, and is carrying him across the threshold into his bedroom. “ _We_ didn’t get married tonight, you don’t need to carry me you asshole!”

“It just felt right,” Sokka says and grins down at him, his face so happy and dopey-looking that Zuko melts against his broad chest, staring up at him. Now that he’s really looked he doesn’t want to stop. Sokka is growing a little bit of scruff and it suits him so well. Zuko reaches up and scratches at it, making Sokka purr low in his throat.

“You’re like a cat,” Zuko grumbles, and Sokka grins even wider and deposits him on the bed. He falls down beside him, still fully clothed, and turns his head to beam at him.

“I didn’t think you’d let me in,” he admits.

“So why’d you come?” Zuko asks, brow furrowed.

“I just wanted to see you so badly,” Sokka shrugs. “I didn’t care how long I was out there. I was ready to sleep on the front steps and ambush you on your way to work.”

“That would have been hard, it’s a Saturday morning,” Zuko snorts.

“Fine, on your way to get the paper,” Sokka rolls his eyes. “You’re undermining the point of my romantic gesture.”

“Yeah, nothing says romance like borderline harassment,” Zuko snipes, and Sokka half sits up, looking wounded.

“I can still go,” he jerks his head toward the open bedroom door. “There’s still a bed across the hall, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Zuko reaches up and starts undoing the rest of the buttons on Sokka’s shirt. “I want you to stay.” He tugs Sokka down and finally kisses him right, with a hand wrapped around the back of his neck, long and slow and tender. A kiss like a balm, to bring them back together in this quiet moment.

“Thank god,” Sokka says when they break apart. “Cause I think I left my wallet in the cab, so if you’d really kicked me out again I’d be fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my life because I respond very well to positive reinforcement. 
> 
> [beersforqueers on tumblr](http://omgbeersforqueers.tumblr.com/)


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